


You do not have to walk on your knees

by engmaresh



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Background Korrasami (mentioned), Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Kuvira Week 2019, Past Baavira (mentioned), Post-Canon, Recovery, Redemption, heavy themes related to PTSD/trauma, mentions of OC children of characters, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 23:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21382432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: Ten years after the fall of the Earth Empire, Korra finds herself searching for its former leader, now released from her prison sentence. But dealing with Kuvira has never been easy, and she's not necessarily going to be happy with the new task Korra has in mind for her.Written for Kuvira Week Day 7: 10 Years Later
Relationships: Korra & Kuvira (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57
Collections: Kuvira Week 2019





	You do not have to walk on your knees

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed warnings at end of chapter.

The tavern was dingy, its walls ramshackle and rough, like they’d been hastily raised by earthbending. Smoke from water pipes clouded her vision, and Korra held her breath as she passed through a particularly noxious cloud. The patrons at the bar were mostly men, and several turned to leer at her, though they turned away just as quickly when their gazes travelled down to her pregnant belly. She returned the stare of the one man whose eyes lingered, and the creep wisely turned back to his drink.

The person she was looking for was sat in a corner, a jar of huangjiu and an empty glass on the dinged table before her. With her legs drawn up, her posture slouched, the hood pulled over her head, and the general low visibility in the dim room, Korra had a moment of doubt regarding the intel she’d received. Then the women shifted slightly, gaze flicking over to her from under her hood, and Korra caught sight of the birthmark under her right eye.

Dragging a rickety stool from under the table, Korra slowly sat down, unable to keep a small smile of relief from crossing her face. “You know, you’re the last person I’d ever expect to pull a...well,” she gestured around the tavern, “a _ me_.”

“Go away, Avatar,” Kuvira muttered, pulling her hood farther over her face and turning away.

Korra began folding her arms on the table, but winced at the feel of the sticky surface. She ended up crossing them over her chest, somewhat hindered by her belly. “Your sentence ended six months ago. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Kuvira chuckled lowly. “I’m doing what’s expected of me. Keeping out of trouble.” 

One of her hands reached out from under her tattered cloak, and Korra noted that it was missing its little finger. Grabbing the huangjiu jar around its neck, Kuvira raised it to her mouth and drank deeply.

Korra frowned. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“Home?” Kuvira snorted, sputtering liquor. “I haven’t known a home since I was eight.”

“Zaofu–” Korra began, but only got another snort.

“Fine, Baatar, then!” said Korra, her voice rising in frustration. “Your daughter!

Kuvira’s face, already unreadable, shuttered even more. She took another deep drought from the jar. “It’s better for them that I stay away.”

Her days of leaping to her feet and flipping tables were over, but it didn’t mean Korra was above fighting dirty sometimes. 

“Is that how it is now?” She slammed her palms down on the table, this time ignoring its unpleasant tackiness. “You’re going to do to your daughter what your parents did to you?”

The accusation seemed to catch her former enemy by surprise, since the huangjiu jar slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor, where it rolled under a bench trailing a thin stream of liquor. “It is nothing alike!” she hissed. “They left me because I was a burden to them! And that’s what I’ll be to her should I return! 

“I’m nothing but a criminal now,” Kuvira spat. “Better she live without that hanging over her head.”

Korra stabbed an angry finger in Kuvira’s direction. “She’s already living with it, no matter how far you stay away.” 

Kuvira groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

“She’s five,” Korra continued, “she’s old enough to know what she wants. And she wants you in her life. In fact, she sent me. Here–”

She pulled a sealed scroll from her belt, tapping the other woman on the head with it when she didn’t take it. 

“I can’t–I can’t do this,” said Kuvira, her voice muffled from behind her hands. “It’s hard enough to go out every day and live life like everything’s...normal.” 

She raised her head and the hood fell back. Someone—very likely Kuvira herself—had taken a blade to her hair, shearing it down to but a few inches from her scalp. Without her hair to soften the sharp lines of her face, it gave her a more masculine appearance, something Korra realised Kuvira had probably intended, travelling alone, and from what she’d heard and now seen, often inebriated.

Kuvira either didn’t notice or ignored Korra’s new scrutiny, fumbling for her abandoned glass before realising it was empty and rolling it off the table in disgust. “At least during my sentence there was some structure, and order. Now...everything is slipping. _ I’m _ slipping...” 

She said the last word with an absent, wavelike gesture of her maimed hand, her voice and gaze drifting.

“Hey,” said Korra gently, putting the letter away for now. She reached out and took Kuvira’s hand in both of hers. “And that’s exactly why you need to go back.”

“No, listen to what I have to say first, please,” she added, when Kuvira started shaking her head so hard her whole body swayed. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or that everyone will have forgiven or forgotten about what you’ve done. But the world’s not going to stop because you’re broken. You’ve come a long way, and thanks to you, so has the Democratic Earth Republic.” 

“The Democratic Earth Republic,” the former ruler of the Earth Empire echoed bitterly, pulling her hand away. “It is everything I wanted for my—the people.”

“And you started them towards that goal.”

“I let my own ambition destroy everything I worked for.”

“Look,” said Korra, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “I’m not here to argue over the crimes you’ve committed. We’ve done that, several times. I still remember your trial like it was yesterday, and I believe sentence you were given was fair and deserved. But I’m here _ now_, because that part of your life is _ over_. You have the opportunity to start anew. Please, don’t waste it.”

Kuvira gave her a blank look. “You are too generous, Avatar. I’ve had my second chance, several times over, in fact. What makes me so special that I deserve another, when I keep throwing them away?”

She stood up shakily, knocking over her chair in the process. 

“I deeply grateful for everything you have done for me, Avatar.” Dipping her body in a low, but wobbly bow, she went on, “I am no longer your responsibility. Please, go home and be with your family. Tell mine…” 

Kuvira looked away, “Tell them I’m dead.”

“No.”

“Please,” said Kuvira, looking pained. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Come with me and you won’t have to.” Korra climbed slowly to her feet, using the table to brace herself. This was, frustratingly, turning out harder than she’d anticipated. She’d expected Kuvira to fight her on this, but never to straight up refuse. Once again, she reached out for the other woman, only to have her hand swatted away.

“I’ve already made my case!” Kuvira yelled, slamming her fist against the wall. Little ripples of earth spread out from the point of impact. The entire tavern fell silent, faces turning to the two women. 

“Why,” continued Kuvira, lowering her voice a little too late, “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” 

“I was going to say that I still see some myself in you,” Korra began bluntly, “but to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever been this pathetic.”

Kuvira grimaced. “You’ve never made the mistakes that I’ve made.”

“No, I haven’t,” agreed Korra. “But this,” She gestured round the room, at the people watching them. “This isn’t penance, it’s just useless self-pity.”

Across from her, Kuvira seemed to deflate. This time, when Korra reached out, she let her put her hand on her shoulder. 

“Besides,” said Korra, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “I’m the Avatar. And you’ve gotta deal with it.”

Kuvira gave her a low chuckle, and when she looked up there were tears rimming her eyes. “Does that always work for you?”

Korra shrugged. “Some have given me trouble for it, but in the end,” she smirked, “I always win.”

“I hate you,” Kuvira muttered, but the words were without malice, and she let Korra sling her arm over her shoulder and lead her out of the tavern.

“Don’t forget to pay,” Korra said in an undertone as they passed the bar, faces once again turning to watch them go. She didn’t trust the other woman to not attempt to use a ruckus as an opportunity to flee. 

Grumbling, Kuvira dug some coins out of her pocket and bent them at the barkeep’s face. He snatched them out of the air before they struck him and shot the two women a vicious glare. “Don’t bother showing you faces here again,” he yelled at their retreating backs.

Korra tightened her grip on Kuvira’s shoulder, but didn’t resist her own urge to turn around and make a face at the surly man.

“Mature,” Kuvira said drily, shielding her eyes as they walked out. The sun was setting, smearing orange like a burst yolk across the sky.

“I’m pregnant, and tired, and spent the last hour arguing with you in a filthy, smelly bar,” Korra defended herself. “I do what I want.”

“Where are we headed for?” asked Kuvira, casting her eye about, probably looking for Korra’s mode of transport. Or a way of escaping. Korra decided it was best to get them up in the air as soon as possible.

“Guwei.” She pulled a whistle out from under her shirt and blew on it.

Kuvira raised an eyebrow. “Sky bison?”

“Yeah, I have my own now,” explained Korra. “I love Naga, but it’s easier to travel long distances by air, and she’s getting old.”

Kuvira mmmed, stirring the ground around her with her foot. In the dregs of daylight, her features were cast in sharp relief, and the hood had fallen from her head again. Though most of her upper body was shrouded by her short cloak, her face was gaunt, a healing cut streaking across one cheek. In addition to the missing finger on her right hand, a reddened burn scar snaked its way up her left calf, all the way to her knee before it disappeared under the bunched hem of her trousers.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Kuvira muttered, self-consciously rubbing her scarred calf against the back of the other. Korra felt a rush of embarrassment for having been caught staring, but pushed it away.

“I can heal it,” she offered. “Maybe reduce the redness, soften the scarring.”

“It’s just a scar,” Kuvira said dismissively. “Now this,” she wriggled her four-fingered hand in front of Korra’s face. “I don’t suppose your healing can regrow fingers.”

“Er, no.” Korra’s tone was apologetic as she took the hand in her own. Whatever had caused the injury, it looked old, and had healed over well, only a faint, seam-like scar marking where the finger had once been. “What happened?”

“Bandits,” Kuvira answered shortly, taking her hand back. If she had more to offer to that story, it was possible that Korra was never going to find out, since at that moment, a bellow rang out from above them.

“Shumai!” Korra waved at the sky bison sailing down above them. She landed with a gentle thumped, sending dust rolling in every direction.

“Shumai? You named your sky bison after a dumpling?”

“Why not?” said Korra with a grin. “I love dumplings!”

“You _ eat _dumplings,” muttered Kuvira, approaching their ride with caution. “How do I get on?”

Korra’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve never ridden on a sky bison?”

“They’re not exactly a common mode of transport, Avatar.”

“You could bend yourself on top,” Korra suggested. “Or climb, I guess? Just don’t pull too hard on Shumai’s fur, she doesn’t like that.”

“Right.” A sharp stomp of Kuvira’s left foot launched her up into the air on a pillar of earth, and she flipped neatly into the sky bison’s saddle. Korra followed with her airbending, creating a gust of wind that swept her up onto Shumai’s head.

“Hold tight,” she warned, and with her call of “Yip! Yip!” Shumai rose from the ground. The sky bison climbed steadily into the air, until they were several feet above the tallest buildings in the town below.

“You alright?” Korra asked, looking back. Kuvira didn’t look alright, holding onto Shumai’s saddle for dear life and looking faintly sick. “Please don’t throw up.”

The other woman just closed her eyes and shook her head.

“You’ll feel better once she reaches a steady altitude,” Korra reassured her. 

“I’ll feel better once my feet are on solid ground,” Kuvira grumbled. “You couldn’t have taken an airship?”

“An airship’s overkill for two people. Besides,” said Korra, letting the reins slacken and giving Shumai her head so she could climb into the saddle, “I can keep a better eye on you this way.”

Though she scowled, Kuvira’s eyes widened in alarm as she watched Korra walk up the gentle slope of Shumai’s back. She released her white-knuckled grip on Shumai’s saddle to extend a hand to her, but Korra waved it away. “I’m fine.”

She made it into the saddle and sat down cross-legged across from her former enemy. “It’ll be a while before we reach Guwei,” she said. “You should sleep off the alcohol. And it’ll help with the air sickness.”

Kuvira ignored her, nodding to her stomach. “How many months?”

Korra smoothed a hand across her belly. “Six. I started showing a lot sooner this time around.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this a second time.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Korra thought of her four-year-old son, back with her partner in Republic City. “We were planning to swap around this time, with Asami carrying her, but then she decided she wasn’t up to it. So here we are.”

Kuvira made a face, like she didn’t quite know what to make of Korra’s decision. “And you know it’s a girl?”

“Mother’s intuition.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kuvira argued, but she left it at that. “My letter...may I?”

“Of course,” said Korra, handing it over. “I’m going to take a nap, okay? Don’t jump overboard or anything.”

Kuvira nodded absently, running her fingers over the Beifong seal affixed to the scroll, so Korra lay down and left her to it.

* * *

It was dark when Korra awoke. The moon had rolled out to replace the sun, and stars twinkled down at them. She pushed her up to a sitting position, a blanket falling from her shoulders, and made a face when an insistent pressure in her bladder made itself known.

Carefully, as not to wake Kuvira who was sleeping curled up across from her, she crawled over to the front of the saddle. “Take us down, Shumai,” she whispered. “You probably want a nap too.”

Moments later, Kuvira shifted behind her. It was quite possible she was sensitive to changes in altitude, or maybe she was just a very, very light sleeper. Korra wisely kept to her side of her saddle, watching as the former dictator jackknifed upright, looking wildly about her before her gaze landed on Korra and she relaxed.

“How do you sleep like this?” she asked, gesturing at the open air around them. “Waking up is like falling.”

“You get used to it,” said Korra. “Besides, you seem to have slept all right.”

“It’s the alcohol.” Kuvira scratched her nose, and Korra noticed the tear tracks that had dried across her cheeks. “Are we here already?”

Korra shook her head. “No. I just have to pee. And we should probably make camp for the night.”

“You’re not worried I’m going to run off?”

“Should I be?”

Kuvira’s gaze fell to her lap, and Korra noticed the letter that was clenched in her fist. Even in the dark, she could see that the ink had stained her fingers. “No,” said Kuvira.

“Okay, that’s good. Because I’d probably go into the Avatar state from annoyance.”

“What happens if you go into the Avatar state while pregnant?” Kuvira asked, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Technically nothing.” Korra stretched her legs out in front of her, trying to find a position that made the pressure in her bladder feel less urgent. She could feel Shumai slowly descend, and trusted the sky bison to find a suitable location for them to land. “The Avatar state doesn’t affect the baby. But being in the Avatar state usually means that I’m under a great deal of stress, and probably in danger, and that part is generally not very good for the baby. Or for me.”

“Then why volunteer for this?”

“Well…” Korra scratched the back of her neck. “Suyin volunteered at first.”

Kuvira visibly bristled at the mention of the Matriarch’s name.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” said Korra, peering over Shumai’s saddle to judge their location. “You’d have disappeared and we’d never have found you again.”

“You’re not wrong,” Kuvira muttered.

Korra mmmmed. “Besides, Altani asked me and I couldn’t say no to her…”

Kuvira started at the mention of her daughter’s name. “What...what is she like? Altani?” She said the name slowly, like it was heavy on her tongue.

Shumai chose the moment to land. Though she touched down light as a feather in Korra’s opinion, Kuvira grabbed onto the saddle and held on grimly until the sky bison had fully settled. 

“Look,” said Korra, climbing to her feet as fast as she could. “I’m not running away from this conversation. I _ promise _ you, I will tell you about your daughter. I just really, _ really _ need to pee right now.”

She couldn’t wait for a response, bending an air cycle under her to carry her off to the nearest tree.

When she returned, Kuvira had erected a small earth shelter, and was attempting to light a fire with a firestarter. “Don’t worry about it,” said Korra, and snapped a finger. The branches burst into flame.

“Useful,” observed Kuvira. “Feeling better?”

“Much. Felt like I’d drunk all of Lake Laogai.” Using a combination of metal and airbending, Korra floated her pack over from Shumai’s saddle. She started digging into the food that’d been packed for her. “So we have iguana seal jerky, dried sea prunes, rice balls, baos, sesame biscuits, pears and mandarins. Help yourself.”

Kuvira eyed the spread that she’d haphazardly laid out before them before reaching for a rice ball. “That’s a lot of food, even for three people.”

Korra shrugged, digging further into the bag for the flask Asami had packed for her. “I have a crazy metabolism. It’s an Avatar thing. Ah, there it is.” She pulled the flask out with a flourish, opening it and letting the fragrant steam waft into her face.

“Herbal soup,” she explained, catching Kuvira’s curious look. “Pregnant lady food.”

“That much was obvious,” Kuvira remarked. “I’m more interested in the container. May I?” 

She held out her hand. Shrugging, Korra passed the flask over.

Kuvira ran her hands over the container’s metal body. “Two layers...the metal is unfamiliar.”

“It’s a new alloy,” Korra explained. “I don’t really know the details, but it’s good for household products.”

“And it keeps the food warm?”

“That’s more to do with the, um...void, uh vacuum between the layers. I think.” She tried to remember what Asami had told her. “It doesn’t stay warm forever, the heat starts fading after twelve hours.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yep,” said Korra, taking back the flask, pouring some soup into a cup before screwing the lid back on tightly. “It’s pretty neat.”

“Y’know,” she raised the cup to her face, flicking a glance over the rim. “Baatar created the alloy.”

“Hmmm,” was Kuvira’s only response, chewing slowly on her rice ball. The look on her face was unreadable.

“Yeah,” Korra went on, between sips of soup and bites of bao. “He created the alloy, but Vaarick’s been more involved in the application. They still work together.”

Kuvira raised an eyebrow. “He’s allowed to do that?”

“Well, he’s still under house arrest—” Kuvira’s eyebrow arched higher, “—but he’s been working with Varrick for almost the entirety of his sentence. At first it was just consultation work, but then after, uh, some things happened in Zaofu, he was extradited to the United Republic to work directly under him.”

“What happened in Zaofu?” Kuvira pressed, her food forgotten.

“Um…” Korra put down her half-eaten bao,and twiddled her thumbs, unsure of how to summarise the three years of events after Kuvira’s trial and sentencing. It was too late for evasive action. “He escaped once thanks to some loyalists, and it took us a month to find him and bring him back. He wasn’t very uh, stable, after that, and then a year later he blew up his lab in Zaofu and nearly died–”

“What?” Kuvira leapt to her feet. The ground around her rippled out in shallow waves of earth. 

“He’s fine now! We got him help and everything!” Korra rushed to reassure her. She shifted, trying to ignore how the ground kept rumbling under her. “It was seven years ago!”

“And nobody told me?” Kuvira’s eyes blazed with anger. Her fists clenched, and metal snaps on Korra’s pack started rattling. As did the buckles on Shumai’s saddle, judging from the sky bison’s agitated lowing some distance away.

“Look, we had reason to believe that when he first got out, his goal was to find you and escape with you,” Korra explained, reaching out placatingly though she remained seated. “Zhu Li was worried you’d do the same when he was hurt, so she embargoed any news about the incident to you. It was considered an internal Zaofu matter anyway, most people just heard it was an accident. Which it was.”

“You think he tried to kill himself,” Kuvira said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know,” said Korra, sounding far too ignorant and helpless to her own ears. That had been Opal’s opinion. Suyin had been devastated, but it had been what made her agree to his extradition. “I’m not privy to the finer details. He was in recovery for several months, and then they sent him to Republic City. He had a therapist for a while, just like you did.”

Kuvira huffed, crossing her arms defensively. “They’re useless.”

“They’re only useless if you refuse to cooperate and talk to them.” Korra picked up a fresh bao, the one she’d half eaten having fallen to the dirt. Though Kuvira still loomed, the ground had stopped moving and she sensed that the blowup had been averted. “He got better after that. I think he also needed to be away from Zaofu.”

“I bet Su wasn’t too happy about that.” To Korra’s relief, Kuvira finally sat back down again, and resumed eating her own food.

“She wasn’t. But she had to accept that well...some things just weren’t ever going to be in her control. Baatar was one them. The other was you.”

Kuvira gave a look, her green eyes narrowed like she wasn’t quite sure to make of Korra’s final statement. Then she grunted—in acceptance, agreement, dismissal?—Korra couldn’t tell. But for several blissful minutes after, they ate in silence. Shumai ambled around the copse of trees, grazing quietly on moss and grass. 

Staring into the flickering light of the fire, Korra thought of her family back in Republic City. They were probably already in bed, or maybe Asami was reading Hanak a bedtime story. The baby shifted, and she chuckled softly to herself, running her hand over each spot he kicked. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kuvira pretend to be engrossed in peeling a mandarin, though every now and then her eyes darted over.

“Would you like to feel her kick?” she offered.

The other woman’s eyes widened comically and she jerked away, as though stung. 

“Or not,” Korra murmured wryly, not taking any offense to the reaction.

“I don’t...object to your child,” Kuvira said quietly. She split the mandarin she’d been peeling and held out half to Korra. “You just seem very eager to trust me, Avatar.”

“I don’t believe you’ll hurt me.”

“And you don’t believe I’ll run away.”

“I think you’re tired of running,” Korra said simply. She picked at the white fibers around her half of the mandarin. Kuvira, it seemed, didn’t mind their bitter taste. Her half of the fruit was already gone.

“So where is Guwei?”

“Hmmm?”

“Guwei.” Kuvira leaned back, tilting her head up to the sky. Korra briefly followed her gaze. It was a good night for stars, clear and cloudless. The White Dragon was winding his way across the sky, chasing his fiery pearl. 

Kuvira it seemed, knew her constellations too, because she absently traced her fingers across the undulations of his body, moving north. “It's not a place I’m familiar with, and judging from the direction we’ve been flying it’s not in the Fire Nation or in the Poles.”

“It’s new,” said Korra. She peeled off a segment of her mandarin and popped it in her mouth. It was dry. “It’s a company town in the D.E.R. where you had your factories and testing grounds for your giant mecha. Vaarick ended up with the ownership of those factories—don’t ask me _ how,_ but I bet Zhu Li pulled a few strings for him—and then Baatar kind of ended up there too?” She shrugged and bit into another segment of fruit. This one was sweeter, juice bursting across her tongue. “First it was just Baatar and Varrick’s lab, then Varrick’s workers and staff moved there too, and now I think there’s around two thousand people living in Guwei.”

Kuvira leaned forward, resting her chin in steepled fingers. “It’s sounds...interesting.”

“I think you’ll like it,” said Korra, hoping she was doing a halfway decent job of selling the place. “There’re a lot of metalbenders there, quite a few from Zaofu.”

“Wow,” said Kuvira, her eyebrows rising once again. “Su must _ really _ hate us now.”

“Nah.” Korra waved a hand. “Like I said, she learned to accept some things. Guwei’s not as, hmmm, artistic, I guess? As Zaofu. But it’s what the papers are calling ‘up-and-coming’.”

“And what about…” Kuvira swallowed audibly. “Alta—my daughter?”

Korra finished her mandarin, drying her sticky fingers on her trousers. Asami wasn’t there to object after all. She shuffled closer to Kuvira. 

“Stay,” she insisted, when Kuvira tried to scoot away. “I need a back rub, and you’re the only one around to give me one.”

“Ugh,” said Kuvira, as Korra moved into place in front of her. “You seem to have become more obnoxious over the years.”

“It’s that magical combination of age, motherhood and saving the world four times over,” Korra said unapologetically. “Please start from the bottom, my lower back is killing me.”

Muttering under her breath, Kuvira dug the knuckles of each hand into either side of Korra’s spine, right by her earth chakra. The younger woman let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, that feels good, thank you.” Kuvira’s touch was firm and deft, but not painful. “Anyway, after you–she, uh—”

“What’s tripping you up?” Kuvira growled, “Keep going.”

Korra chewed her lip. “Where should I start?”

“Start…” Kuvira’s voice caught, and she cleared her throat. It was scratchy when she resumed speaking. “Start from when they gave her to you.” 

If was a relief to not have to look at her. And how odd it was, Korra mused, to find herself here, in the middle of nowhere, getting back rubs from a woman who’d tried to kill her several times. It was probably something Aang would have approved of.

“If you don’t want to tell me...” Kuvira said quietly from behind her, her voice cracking at the end of her sentence.

“Nonono.” Korra twisted, trying to give her a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “It was just—”

“You can skip the gory details.” This time Kuvira’s voice was steady.

“You deserve to know,” said Korra. She inhaled deeply, centering herself. Finally, in a small voice, she asked, “Do you remember her birth?”

“No.” Kuvira pressed her thumbs into her back and smoothed them up along her spine. “I was sedated for most of it.”

“They had to cut her out of you.”

She felt Kuvira shrug behind her, but she couldn’t tell how feigned the nonchalance was. “It happens. I’ve actually seen it done before, during my campaign in Ba Sing Se.”

“Really?” Korra couldn’t imagine Kuvira in the birthing room. Maybe she’d just watched, given orders. “It was my first time. Seeing any kind of childbirth, really. They let me into the medical tent and there was...there was a lot of blood.” 

She picked at her nails, her mind recoiling from the memory. “At first I thought you were dead.”

Kuvira’s hands stilled momentarily on her back, before they dug in with renewed vigour. Korra bit back a wince.

“They gave her to me. She was…very noisy.”

“I heard that’s common to babies.”

“Um, anyway, I healed you, made sure they were going to give you proper rest and treatment, and then I took her and left.”

“There were letters for Baatar.”

“Yeah, I took those too. I only realized halfway to Guwei that she didn’t have a name yet.” Korra put her face in her hands. “I ended up calling her Kuju—ow!”

“What kind of a name is Kuju?” Kuvira demanded.

“It’s short for Kuvira Junior.”

Kuvira’s nails bit into her shoulders, making her squirm. “Korra…”

“It was only temporary!” Korra protested. “I arrived in Guwei, and Baatar was there and he took her and said ‘Altani’, and nobody ever knew I’d named her anything else.”

Kuvira huffed. “Well, as long as you haven’t named your child Koju or something as ridiculous.”

“His name is Hanak! And this one here…” she patted her belly. “It’s either going to be Hiroshi or Katara, depending on the gender.”

“You said you think she’ll be a girl.”

“Asami has her money on a boy.” Korra twisted, trying to catch Kuvira’s eye over her shoulder. “Y’know, you’re taking this a lot easier than I expected.”

Once again, Kuvira’s hands tightened on her shoulders. Korra braced herself, but instead of further ministrations, Kuvira’s head thumped lightly against her back. “I’m not,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m really not.”

Korra could feel her hot, ragged breaths through her shirt, then a slow spreading dampness as Kuvira started to cry. She hardly made a sound throughout, though Korra could feel every choked, gulping breath, every harsh inhale. She shook, and Korra held her the best she could, reaching over her shoulders to grab Kuvira’s hands. Kuvira grabbed back, holding on to them like they were a lifeline.

After several minutes, the crying petered out, or at least that was what Korra assumed was happening. Kuvira’s breathing evened and the shaking stopped. Her grip on Korra’s hands loosened, and her hands fell to her side, though she remained slumped against Korra’s back.

“I hope you’re not blowing your nose on my shirt.”

Kuvira laughed a low, watery laugh, and smacked Korra gently upside the head. “Is your back good for now?”

Korra pushed herself to her feet and stretched, feeling her spine crack. “It’s fine. Thanks.”

She turned around, looking down at the other woman, as she wiped her eyes with the neck of her tunic. “Hey, Kuvira.”

Kuvira raised her head. She looked tired and careworn, though her green eyes remained as sharp as ever. “Your daughter is smart and strong. She’s as clever as her d–uh, dad,” she stumbled over the words, suddenly worried she’d said the wrong thing, “and as fierce as you...not that I don’t think you’re clever, but uh, you know what I mean.”

Kuvira gave a small smile, and rose to her knees, taking one of Korra’s hands between her own. “You have no idea how much this means to me, Avatar. Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem,” said Korra, then grimaced. “Just please, stop calling me that. Avatar. Korra’s fine. I prefer Korra.” She carefully extracted her hand. “Even from my enemies and former enemies. Really.”

“If you insist,” Kuvira said with a careless shrug as she pushed herself to her feet. “Do you want to sleep on the ground or in the saddle? Korra?”

“The ground,” said Korra. “I’m probably going to have to get up several times over the night anyway. Can you get the blankets?”

As Kuvira chased after Shumai to retrieve the sleeping sacks and blankets that had been left on the saddle, Korra packed away the food, and sank the earthen shelter into the ground before reforming it over her, closer to the fire and a little wider this time. 

“I don’t think your sky bison likes me very much,” Kuvira said huffing as she returned with their bedding. 

“She’s a grumpy old lady, she doesn’t like anyone much,” said Korra, taking her bedroll and rolling it out. “Like you and Lin.”

“I’m not—” Kuvira began, but Korra interrupted her with a giant, jaw-cracking yawn.

“Sleep now, talk later. And by the way, you’re sleeping in here with me.” She stretched out and patted the ground next to her under the shelter.

Kuvira looked hesitant.

“I won’t bite, I don’t snore and I won’t snuggle,” Korra assured her. “In fact, it’s kinda hard with this in the way.” She nodded down at her belly.

Still Kuvira hesitated. “I have nightmares.” 

Korra nodded in understanding, and bent low wall of dirt, about two handspans tall, down the middle of the shelter. “That work for you?”

Kuvira sighed and started rolling out her bedroll. “You’re not going to let this go until I say yes.”

Korra shrugged, pulling her blanket up to her chin. “I have nightmares too. I find that I sleep better when I’m not alone.”

“I’m not like you,” Kuvira warned, punching a low pillow of dirt up under the head end of her bedroll.

“Fine, you’re not,” said Korra, closing her eyes. “But who said I am doing this for you?”

* * *

“She calls him dad.”

They were back in the air again. The morning had dawned, cold and bright. After a hasty breakfast, they’d piled all their belongings—Korra’s mostly—back into the saddle and left their camp behind.

“Who?” asked Korra, running a brush through her hair even as the wind kept tossing it back in her face.

Kuvira, who didn’t have to worry over such matters with her shorn head, was rereading her letter from Altani for the third time that morning. “Baatar.”

“Well, he _ is _ her father.”

The silence was one Bolin would have labelled “Awk-ward,” along with that poking his index-fingers together thing he did when he was nervous.

Kuvira suddenly seemed to find the weave of Shumai’s saddle incredibly interesting. “She’s not his,” she said, so low Korra could barely catch the words.

Korra made a face, glad that Kuvira had hers turned away. “Biologically, yes, I did realise that couldn’t possibly be.”

Silence fell again, feeling as thick as fog. As Korra braided back her hair, she went over possible reactions in her head. They all led inevitably back to one thing. Tying off the end of her braid, she glanced over to Kuvira, who was staring off into space with a blank expression on her face. The letter fluttered in her hand, momentarily forgotten.

“Kuvira,” Korra said gently, reaching over to tap the other woman on the knee. “Kuvira.” 

It took her some time to come back to herself, though her eyes narrowed quickly at Korra’s concerned scrutiny. 

“Kuvira,” Korra said again, hoping her voice was open and coaxing enough. It was hard to tell sometimes, with people as unreadable as Kuvira. But at least she let Korra take her free hand, the one without the little finger. “You have to tell me. You didn’t back then, but I have to know, please.” 

She squeezed Kuvira’s fingers between her own. “Who was it? I can—”

Kuvira’s gaze darkened, her brows drawing down between her eyes. She snatched her hand away, clenching it into a fist that made all the metal on Shumai’s saddle shiver. “No, stop it,” she said, her voice a low growl, “It wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t rape. He was a guard, yes, but we’d just survived a harrowing experience, spirits were high. We were stupid.”

“It wasn’t right,” Korra insisted. “He was a guard, he shouldn’t have—”

“Does it matter?” Kuvira’s voice rose. Her eyes blazed, and Korra could feel every piece of metal in the vicinity hum. Beneath them, Shumai bellowed uneasily. “What is past, is past. You just said I should move on.”

A sudden, almost frightening calm passed over her face. Her clenched fist relaxed, the metal stopped humming. “I am where I am today because I couldn’t let go of the past. I’m not going to look back again and start thinking that I’ve been victimized or broken. I can’t do that.”

She looked down at her lap, and Korra’s gaze followed, down to the letter that lay there crumpled, the ink smudged with tears, the paper lined with a hundred creases.

“Okay,” said Korra, deciding to leave it be. “But if you ever—”

“Yes, yes!” Kuvira turned away, looking out at the empty sky. Whatever air sickness or fear of flying she’d had the day before was gone, or just stubbornly pushed away. 

Korra sighed, directing own her gaze towards the growing mountain range in the distance. They’d fired the whole contingent of guards when the news broke. Inquiries had been made, Kuvira’s fellow prisoners interrogated for any information. Nobody had spilled a word, not even Kuvira herself, beyond her stubborn insistence on keeping the child. And Altani was a bright, even-tempered girl who took after her mother in appearance. There were no answers to be found there.

“Those are Zaofu airships.”

Korra blinked, pulling her mind back from the past. “What?” 

“There!”

She followed Kuvira’s finger to the growing grey shapes heading towards them, their metal bulk glimmering in the sun.

“Are you sure?” Korra asked, squinting. She could tell they were airships, but there was no way she could identify where they were from.

“The metal feels different,” Kuvira explained. “The frequencies, or something like that.”

“Okay,” said Korra. When metal was metal, it all felt the same to her. Then again, water sang to her in all its different harmonies so it was likely something akin to that.

“We also flew over Zaofu a while ago.”

“It’s probably Suyin,” Korra mused. “She was in Guwei when I left.”

“What?” Kuvira’s voice rose to a shout. Shumai moaned.

“She was just visiting,” Korra said defensively. “I did say she should leave, but I meant leave the house, not leave the city!”

Kuvira grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her frantically. “When you took her you promised not to give her to Suyin!”

“And I didn’t!” Korra yelled back, pushing Kuvira’s hands away. “But she’s Altani’s grandmother, I couldn’t just keep her away.”

Kuvira lurched over to the edge of the saddle, grabbing onto the edge until her knuckles turned white as she watched the airships near with a sick fascination. Her chest heaved.

“Turn around.”

“What?” Korra had been about climb down to Shumai’s head, intent on guiding the sky bison away from the ships.

Kuvira’s breathing was coming in short, shallow pants. Her shoulders shook as she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t do this after all. Just...drop me off somewhere.”

“No!”

The airships were close enough that Korra could hear their hum. Now she could sense the metal too.

Meanwhile Kuvira had curled herself into a ball on the far end of the saddle. Her hood was back up over her head and she’d buried her face in her arms. Giving up on taking the reins, Korra gave Shumai a nudge with her airbending then crawled over to Kuvira.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, try to put her arms around Kuvira as best as she could. “Look, they’re flying away.”

Indeed, the airships had made an abrupt left turn, taking them away from the flying bison. They were still too far away for Korra to make out any shapes in the cockpit, but she suspected she was going to have a very long talk with Suyin in the coming weeks.

Kuvira was groaning softly like a wounded tiger seal. Korra hauled her semi upright, so that she lay half in her lap. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, running her hand through Kuvira’s bristly hair. “You’re alright. You’re alright.”

“I’m going to ruin her,” Kuvira moaned, her hands pressed over her eyes. “Bring me back and I’ll ruin her.”

“No, you won’t,” Korra said firmly. “You love her.”

Kuvira’s laugh was bitter. “Suyin loves Baatar. I’m sure, once, my mother loved me too. Love cannot make you good.”

“No,” agreed Korra, “but it makes you try.”

“Trying,” Kuvira said tiredly, “never helped anyone.”

“A guru once said, never try, never know.”

“Did they now, o wise Avatar?” Kuvira opened her eyes and sat up. Her breathing had calmed, though the hunted look in her eyes lingered. “Suyin told me that too once, when she was making me eat kale. And some idiot who was trying to get me to kiss him.”

“And what did you learn?” asked Korra. She kept a hand on Kuvira’s back, rubbing in soothing concentric circles.

“That kale tastes horrible raw, and most men are terrible.”

Korra had to laugh at that, and after a moment or so, Kuvira followed suit.

“Feeling better?” Korra asked, pulling Kuvira closer so that the other woman could rest her head on her shoulder.

“She’s going to hate me,” Kuvira sighed, resignation in her voice. 

“She’s a sweet kid,” Korra reassured her. “She wants you to be here.” Over the top of Shumai’s head, she could see the smokestacks of Guwei’s factories.

“She’s five,” mumbled Kuvira. “She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“Hey, look,” said Korra, patting Kuvira on the shoulder. “I know it’s not the same thing, but when I was carrying Hanak...it was rough. I wasn’t in the best state of mind, I didn’t feel in control of my body, and at one point I was terrified I—” she cut herself off, shaking her head, unable or unwilling to share further.

“The point is, it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt a lot. But better to rip off the bandage now and let things scab over and heal, instead of allowing them to fester. I’m too old to fight another dictator because of her mommy issues.”

Kuvira snorted. “Thanks. Because that’s all my campaign ever really was about.”

“I’ll make sure that’s how it’s written in the history books,” Korra said with a small grin, and laughed when Kuvira jogged her with a bony elbow. She pulled away then, sliding over to the back of the saddle and crossing her legs and closing her eyes in a meditative pose. Korra left her to it, and headed forward to the front to pick up the reins.

They were close enough to start catching noises from below; mysterious clanking and whirring from the factories, the roar of engines down the main street.

A cry rose up, and Korra peered over the side of Shumai’s head. Someone in the market below had spotted them and waved. She waved back with a smile, but hoped none of the kids would try to chase after them. An audience would make for an awkward reunion.

Baatar’s house was at the end of a dead-end street mostly populated by freestanding homes. It was a more gentrified part of the city, through it had started out as nothing more than a hanger and a cottage. Today the hanger was gone, Baatar and Varrick’s lab moved across the city. The cottage had been expanded into a modest home, with a somewhat less modest workshop where Baatar continued his tinkering.

Shumai swooped down, eliciting a whimper from Kuvira, though Korra wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the sudden movement. Then Shumai landed with a low groan in the driveway, and they were here.

Korra climbed to her feet. She walked over to Kuvira, extending a hand. Kuvira’s eyes were open, her gaze steely and determined.

“You ready?”

“No,” said Kuvira, ignoring the proffered hand as she climbed to her feet. “But I’ll face whatever comes next.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism, portrayal of PTSD and a panic attack, mentions of an ambiguous suicide attempt, discussion of a sexual encounter of ambiguous consent, discussions of trauma, brief description of traumatic childbirth (witnessed, not experienced), parental anxiety. Uh, I think that covers everything? Not necessarily a dark fic, just one with heavy themes.
> 
> A lengthy Author's Note for this [on tumblr](https://engmaresh.tumblr.com/post/190891286688/authors-notes-for-you-do-not-have-to-walk-on).
> 
> *******  
You do not have to be good.  
You do not have to walk on your knees  
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.  
You only have to let the soft animal of your body  
love what it loves.  
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.  
Meanwhile the world goes on.  
\- from "Wild Geese", by Mary Oliver


End file.
